Crash Into Me
by My Sharpie Is Green
Summary: Love is patient, love is kind. Or at least that's what he used to believe. GeorgeIzzie


I don't own Grey's. And, while I'm a fan of George/Izzie, this is how I think things could pan out. At first, at least. Be sure to review.

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Doctors have all kinds of secret laws and rules; unspoken codes of conduct and secret expectations. Interns, especially, are subjected to their own set of regulations. We aren't allowed to question other doctors in their own operating rooms. We are forbidden from maintaining relationships with residents and attendings, and, most importantly, we are supposed to stay away from each other.

The problem is, as interns, we love nothing more than to cross the line.

_Crash Into Me_

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud, it is not rude. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs." George was raised on those words – sentiments of hope and markings of optimism. Some nights his mother would read Paul's first letter aloud to the O'Malley boys and his father would look at her, smiling as his eyes crinkled. And, while his brothers scoffed and stifled laughter, George smiled too. George believed that love was kind, back in a time when he thought that people were good and that the world was pure. He used to believe, but now he knows, and he knows that the world is a dark place, that people are cruel, and that love…love is the worst of all.

George is sure that Paul had never been in love. He is certain that Paul had never married a woman while grieving the loss of his father or fallen in love with the one woman he can't have. He's supposed to love his wife, not his best friend. He never meant to… All he wanted was for Izzie to convince him that his marriage could work – that his marriage _would_ work – and instead he received the most finite reassurance that it wouldn't. It couldn't. Because he didn't love Callie, he never had, and now he couldn't stop thinking about a woman whom, only a few months ago, he sat Shiva with as she mourned the death of her fiancée. The man she loved and who loved her back. Who could love her back, without guilt or obligation. Just when he was beginning to doubt that he could love one person, he was quickly learning that it was impossible to love two, which explained why he was pacing outside of the doors to the church where Cristina had just gotten married.

When he walked through the doors, however, he didn't expect to see what he did. The priest was nowhere in sight and Izzie sat in stony silence three pews back from the altar. She turned when she heard the heavy door close, and he found himself making eye contact with the last person he wanted to see in that moment.

"Why aren't you at the reception?" His voice was shaky, but he didn't look down. He didn't back away. He walked towards her, the woman who was his best friend and maybe the love of his life so far. Her hand reached up and grazed her hairline before lightly massaging her temples.

"You can't have a reception without a wedding."

He swallowed before sitting next to her, leaving space between their bodies so that he couldn't feel the heat radiating from her pores or the softness of her skin. "You mean…"

"Yeah."

Izzie frowned and he watched her, noting the way that the tiny lines around her mouth creased when her lips turned down. "I… Cristina and Burke always sort of made me think that people like us could have relationships. Functional relationships. Almost like – "

"Like if they got married, I might be able to, too." She paused for a moment, her eyes focused in her lap. "You didn't come."

"I know."

"I meant why didn't you come."

"If I tell you this, you have to react as my friend. You have to listen. And you have to not ask me questions." Izzie nodded. "I failed my exam."

"How? I mean, you studied. We studied. We all studied. Together. You knew everything."

"Izzie, I said – "

"You were watching Meredith. You were concerned. If you go to the Chief, he'll let you take it over, now that you're focused."

"Izzie, there's a new Chief."

"Derek would let you, so would Preston or Addison, and maybe even Mark. You can't just give up. This is all you've wanted to do."

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know what I want?" George stood up and began to walk away, down the aisle that should have shown his friends happiness and himself hope.

"Do you?" He froze and turned around. Izzie was standing now, her hands clasped in front of her as her eyes shone. "What I said to you today…"

"Izzie, I can't."

She moved towards him, clasping one of his hands in hers and kissing his knuckles lightly. "Why did you come here?"

"You said confession helped."

"I lied."

" I couldn't help but think… Izzie, I believe in karma. You know that."

"So you think I'm the reason you failed your intern exam? George…"

"You are not my wife."

"Have you not heard a word I've said to you these past weeks? I love you."

"You are not my wife, but I kiss you in elevators when I should be kissing her. When we tried for a baby today, all I could think about was you and Hannah and what it would be like if we could have a family."

"George, you're saying that like we can't."

"What am I supposed to do? I don't believe in divorce."

"You don't love her."

"But I could. I could try. I could learn."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she squeezed George's hand tighter, her eyes begging him to stay.

"Please…"

"I have to try. I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"George, no."

"I'm so sorry, Izzie."

He let go of her hand and walked back towards the door as the sounds of sobs broke out behind him.

"What about the good, George? What about believing in the good?"

He paused for a final time and turned back to face her. Her eyes were red and swollen and she was trying to fight the imminent tears.

"There is no good."

As Izzie raised her hands to her face, he walked out, his pace deliberate and quick.

He should have taken the internship in San Diego.

**-**

As interns, we cross lines. We break rules and we test the people around us. To us, there is nothing better than winning in a battle of stubborn wills – us against the tried and true. But the line needs to exist. There needs to come a time when stubborn morphs into wise and headstrong into insightful. As residents, we are required to be leaders, not a bulletproof counterculture. As residents, we have to accept that those who came before us, the ones who established the rules, they knew what they were talking about. They knew and they wanted to save us the trouble of finding out for ourselves. If only we'd stop to listen.


End file.
